“Commander Zhou, among the deceased, there’s a barbarian who was disguised.”

Chao Yisong had been waiting for Zhou Ting to come upstairs and immediately reported.

A barbarian?

The private room was in complete disarray. Everywhere Zhou Ting looked were Han Chinese faces. Only the corpse slumped over the table had damaged facial skin. He walked forward, tore it off with two fingers, and the deep bone structure beneath became even clearer.

“Did anyone see clearly who did this?”

Zhou Ting turned his head and asked in a heavy voice.

“I’ve questioned the spectators who were by the railing at the time. Some said they seemed to have seen a figure in white robes, but that person wore a veiled hat and they didn’t look closely…” Chao Yisong answered truthfully.

People who came to the entertainment district were all focused on watching the excitement—how many would notice other things?

White robes, veiled hat.

Zhou Ting furrowed his brow. He almost immediately recalled the person standing with their back to him downstairs earlier. “Chao Yisong, search.”

“Yes!”

Chao Yisong immediately walked out of the private room, ordering his subordinates to gather all the spectators in the entertainment district downstairs.

Zhou Ting turned back to examine once more that barbarian who had already stopped breathing.

Although Great Qi and Danqiu had temporarily ceased hostilities, that didn’t mean there weren’t turbulent undercurrents below the surface. For such a barbarian to appear in the capital’s entertainment district at this time was nothing if not sinister.

“Commander Zhou, there are people wearing white robes, but none wearing veiled hats.” Chao Yisong ran upstairs panting. “I looked around—they’re all weak scholarly types who can’t lift or carry anything. They don’t look at all like someone who could kill all eight of these people.”

“You tested them?”

Zhou Ting asked.

“Tested them all. Not one has any martial arts foundation.” Chao Yisong supported himself with one hand on his waist and beckoned to a waiter nearby. “Him. He said he had some impression of that gentleman in the veiled hat. At the time, that gentleman was listening to the pipa over there with a young woman.”

Zhou Ting first looked in the direction Chao Yisong indicated—an empty table, two cups of cold tea. Then his eyes fixed on that waiter: “What did that woman look like?”

“In, in reply to your lordship, this humble one didn’t pay attention to her appearance. It’s just that the gentleman beside her was holding a lantern even after entering such a brightly lit place as ours. This humble one thought it strange, so I looked twice. As for the rest… I know nothing.”

The waiter answered trembling with fear.

Zhou Ting contemplated with a cold expression for a moment, then ordered Chao Yisong:

“First bring these eight corpses back to the Night Patrol Bureau.”

The moonlight was clear and bright, fine snow like dust.

In the dim, quiet back alley of the theater district, Ni Su broke free from Xu Hexue’s hand. Her feet touched the ground, but she heard footsteps and voices interweaving ahead. An ice-cold hand covered her lips.

Flying snow fell on her temples. Following her downcast gaze, Xu Hexue’s eyes fell on the back of his own hand. At some point, a wet bloodstain had appeared.

Those sounds grew distant. He suddenly released his hand.

“Even if I can escape, what about you? You appeared here together with me. Once Zhou Ting investigates carefully, he’ll always be able to extract scattered words from those people in the entertainment district. But if you’re not present, this matter will have nothing to do with you.” Xu Hexue explained to her.

Xu Hexue bent down slightly. “I know you’re unwilling, so I just now…”

He didn’t finish his words, but both of them unconsciously recalled how he had bent down in the theater district to scoop up her crouching form from the corner. In just an instant, his body transformed into mist, and along with it, her figure also silently disappeared from everyone’s view.

Ni Su hadn’t known before that beneath his seemingly slender appearance, his bone structure was extremely firm. His arms restrained her, ignoring her struggles, holding her tightly in his embrace as he walked out of the theater district.

“I know you don’t want me to enter the Night Patrol Bureau again.”

Ni Su finally spoke, but she didn’t raise her head. “I’m just wondering why, when you’ve transformed into a ghost spirit with abilities beyond what humans can achieve, the Netherworld must punish you for using them.”

“Because these are abilities that shouldn’t be used here.”

“Then where can they be used?”

Ni Su looked up.

Crystalline snow particles lightly brushed her brows and eyes. Xu Hexue was silent for a moment. The blood covering his palm and the stains on his sleeve edges slowly transformed into sparkling dust and floated away under the moonlight. He raised his head. The night sky’s stars were sparse and scattered: “Where that is doesn’t matter, because I won’t go there.”

His words were calm.

Ni Su actually didn’t quite understand, but she knew that those so-called punishments falling upon him one after another were ferocious and deep. Though she hadn’t glimpsed more of the injuries on his body, she knew that they must be like the scars on his arms—visible to the naked eye, the sharpness of blades, the damage to flesh and blood.

As if each one was a punishment he had personally suffered while alive.

“Let’s go back.”

The wind and snow made Ni Su’s nose ache. “I bought many candles. When we return, I’ll light them for you.”

The two words “go back” brought Xu Hexue immense peace of mind. He turned to look at this young lady beside him. Just hearing her say these two words made him want to go back with her.

“How did you recognize that barbarian?”

Ni Su and he supported each other, walking while asking.

“Barbarians are born on the plateau and live by nomadic herding. To compete for grazing lands and livestock, there are often frictions between tribes. They have a tradition of wearing blades from childhood. The way they wear blades and their habits are different from Han Chinese. That person just now had no ornaments at his waist, yet would unconsciously touch his waist.”

It wasn’t only this. Because Xu Hexue had fought Danqiu barbarians at the border for five years, he had an even more meticulous understanding of barbarians.

“You had me hide Grand Commandant Miao because you were certain Grand Commandant Miao didn’t know this person, and the military constables arrived so quickly, which proves someone was waiting for Grand Commandant Miao to walk into the trap.”

Grand Commandant Miao was Great Qi’s Grand Commandant. On the Lantern Festival, yet he came alone to the entertainment district to meet a barbarian—if this matter spread, Grand Commandant Miao would be unable to defend himself even with a hundred mouths.

“But why did you trust Grand Commandant Miao so much?” Ni Su remembered that almost the moment she recognized Grand Commandant Miao, he had immediately made his decision.

“Between him and the barbarians, it can only be a fight to the death.”

In the first year after Xu Hexue gave up his scholar status and went to the border, he served under General Miao Tianzhao in the Huning Army. That was the most important period of his life—witnessing firsthand the bloody carnage of battlefields, observing what a war’s defeat or victory could gain and what would be lost.

Miao Tianzhao had killed countless barbarians in his lifetime. If he had entered that private room in the theater district, he might not have failed to recognize that barbarian’s identity. But as long as he went in, whether he recognized that person would no longer matter. What mattered was that a storm was approaching, and he would have no way to avoid it.

“Didn’t you question any of those people? Who they were, why they wanted to harm Grand Commandant Miao?”

“They were determined to die—they wouldn’t say anything.”

Xu Hexue shook his head.

Ni Su lowered her head for quite a while before saying, “I also saw another person—Censor Jiang. When I took Grand Commandant Miao to change clothes, he also came in. It seemed he also didn’t want to be discovered by the military constables and the Night Patrol Bureau.”

“Perhaps there’s been progress with the account books matter.”

Xu Hexue’s expression moved slightly.

“Then when you’re better, we’ll go to Censor Jiang’s house again.”

Ni Su said.

Hearing her words, Xu Hexue was almost startled. He turned his face to look at her, but didn’t expect the remaining lamp to go out. His vision returned to complete darkness. He could only hear her voice: “The candle burned out. I’ll pull you along.”

There weren’t many people sweeping snow in the back alley, and the light was also very dim. Ni Su tossed away the lantern, pulled Xu Hexue’s sleeve, and stepped through the thick accumulated snow, groping their way forward toward the light source at the end.

Withered branches were broken by the heavy accumulated snow. A large mass of ice and snow fell down without warning, covering Ni Su’s head and body. She sniffled and sneezed loudly.

“Ni Su?”

Xu Hexue’s eyes couldn’t see. Hearing only this sound, he reached out tentatively, but didn’t expect her to suddenly turn her head. His palm pressed against her cheek.

Her face was very cold. Between Xu Hexue’s fingertips, he could even feel fine particles of snow. An ordinary person’s temperature would be enough to melt them, but Ni Su saw the ice and snow between his fingers remained crystalline and distinct, not melting at all.

“What’s wrong?”

He withdrew his hand.

“Nothing…”

Ni Su shook her head. Much of the accumulated snow in her hair bun was shaken off, but there was still quite a bit in the hood of her cloak, mixed in her collar. She simply turned around: “There’s a lot of snow in my hood. Help me out.”

Hearing this, Xu Hexue could only reach forward, touching the fabric of her cloak. He patiently moved upward, lightly turning the edge of the hood and gently patting off the accumulated snow clinging to it.

Ni Su secretly glanced back at him. The faint moonlight and cold mist intertwined—his features weren’t very clear.

“Xu Ziling.”

She suddenly called.

“Mm?”

Xu Hexue focused on the movements of his hands.

“I think Grand Commandant Miao will definitely ask me about you. He wanted to ask in the entertainment district, but didn’t expect Censor Jiang to barge in. But I think Grand Commandant Miao will definitely seek me out again.”

Ni Su stood obediently. “Tell me, if he asks who you are, how should I answer him?”

Xu Hexue’s palms were covered in snow. Cold wind blew open his sleeve, revealing a bright red wound. His knuckles curled—he was actually distracted by her words.

“Xu Ziling?”

Ni Su called again. “Are you in too much pain? Let’s hurry back.”

She didn’t dare let him help anymore and quickly grabbed his hand.

In the cold night’s empty alley, the sound of stepping on snow gradually quickened.

Xu Hexue depended on this person who had summoned him back from the Netherworld. His eyes were vacant and lifeless: “If he asks you, tell him we met by chance like duckweed on water, without exchanging names.”

Met by chance like duckweed on water, without exchanging names.

In the night mist, Ni Su looked at his jaw. “You didn’t come back to seek old friends, did you?”

“You’re unwilling to see your teacher, unwilling to see Grand Commandant Miao whom you clearly recognize. Then how… would you be willing to see your old friends?”

She said, “The ones you want to see aren’t people who have kindness and righteousness with you, but people who have grudges and resentment with you.”

All the former bonds of affection, life and death, teachers and friends—he had cherished and valued them, not daring to destroy them with his remnant soul. So he would rather walk a path alone in this mortal world.

“When I met you, I thought about seeing him.”

After a long silence, Xu Hexue said softly: “But Ni Su, I also think they may not want to see me.”

Actually, these words of his didn’t sound sad at all. His tone was calm enough to be merely stating a fact. But Ni Su’s heart felt somewhat uncomfortable.

Why wouldn’t they want to see him?

Because after he died over a decade ago, no one made offerings to him?

In Ni Su’s heart, she felt that the bonds of affection he held tightly in his heart seemed too heartless toward him. From the moment this person left this mortal world, it was as if all people and matters had severed ties with him.

“But,”

Ni Su gripped his hand tightly. The snowflakes filling the sky brushed her cheeks like dust. Step by step, she led him to that patch of warm yellow light at the alley entrance. The lively sounds not far away became very close to them. “But I always feel you shouldn’t be treated this way.”